Quietly Softly
by Satin Champagne
Summary: Takes place after Hawksong…This is a bad summary… a wolf is found on the now united Serpiente and Avian land and a fight breaks out… please just read and reply.
1. Intruder

These aren't my own characters! Atwater-Rhodes is the one to credit.

Quietly, softly. Cascading cashmere; enveloping me. Golden strands fall into my eyes; I remove them with a gentle sweep of my hand. Leaving the warmth pressing against my back, I quietly slip away from my yielding haven.

I tread tenderly down grand, winding steps. Carefully coiling down, like a serpent's scaled body. To the parlor. I seat myself down, drinking in the sensation of the couch submitting to my weight; willingly surrendering to my outside force. I sink into the cushioned seat, it moans with its age. Sleep comes quickly as I submerge into a semi-conscious miasma.

My nose senses a slight tingle; warm vapor gently breathed. Slowly opening, my eyes see pulsating crimson. Burning with the fires of Hell, burning with love for me fixed straight into my molten gold. Zane curves his mouth into a smile and lifts me into his arms.

"I was waiting," I grin. "You looked so peaceful, sleeping like a baby. I didn't want to wake you."

Zane says nothing. He looks at me with those smoldering flame eyes.

"What…?"

Benevolently, he leans forward. The space between us closes. Smaller, closer. His lips brush across mine. I lean even nearer and press one of my palms against his chest and my other hand runs through his raven hair. The brims of our mouths dance as they move in harmony. I feel his bedroom eyes looming around. Lavishly strong arms wrapped around my torso tense in the moment I draw away as they reluctantly release me from his embrace.

Zane ducks his head, hoping to lock his eyes on mine, concern waltzing in the shifting inferno of his iris. "What's…?"

Halting in mid-sentence, he glances up as he senses another form in the shadows.

Zane's eyes rage into a deep garnet as he gracefully slips across the room, changing into his half form. Silver fangs flash across his face and flicker into a frown with a hiss of irritation. He sways for a moment and then slides to the shadows. Too dark to see, I begin to change into my hawk form and seek safety in the air. Slowly, gradually, the air surrounds me; the fresh scent of excitement enveloping me and I give in to my desire. Leaning, little by little. Rising, little by little. I surrender to the force of the wind and am wrapped in a shell of sky. My hair picks up in the chilling gust and is tousled about my head in strokes of gold. The draft scoops under my feet and lifts me up progressively and slowly. Up, wind.

I hear fumbling. A cry of pain. Zane's gruff voice. Fear cloaks my view. From the shadows of my view, out come Zane and a man I do not recognize. Relieved to see Zane with not much harm, I sweep to the ground, shifting back as I descend.

My feet contact solid earth. I fly to Zane and this intruder, not on wings but on foot. The man he holds by the cuff of his collar, gasping for air. Torn clothing swathe limply across his well-toned chest. Stark gray eyes twinkling with tears restrained, on the brink of erupting but held in by this man's thin thread of control. Blood trickles down his scalp and in a fragile stream at the edge of his torn lower-lip. A deep wound is embedded in his side and his arms drape helplessly at his sides. Bruised and battered, he looks up defiantly none the less. Threatening, fearing. I feel my hand instinctively reach in my back pocket for a knife. His hair disquieting silver, thick with black streaks. In his eyes I could see his furry dancing in the altering hues of smoke. Looking closer, I realize with shock that his pupil is an infinitely ebony ellipse. I draw in a sharp breath.

"A wolf?"

Tell me what think! This is my first fan fiction… please R&R! Tell me what to fix or if you liked it…. Or maybe to update.


	2. Wolf's Fury

"What are wolves doing on Avian-Serpiente land?" I back stepped. "They haven't been here for centuries, even when our kingdoms were warring."

The Vahtik had been secluded. Hunting in the mountains, dwelling in the mountains. No one considered them allies. No one considered them enemies. Like true wolves, traveling in a pack. Flying on the soft pads of their feet; quickly, quietly, weaving through trees. They had always been isolated from other kingdoms. Was this one a straggler? Left his pack? Or was this something organized by the Vahtik kingdom?

Gaining my confidence, I approach the man. Eyes flash silvery gray, daring me to move. Zane drops him to the floor. Clatter of claws upon marble. He growls in resentment, revealing lustrous pale fangs. Daggers cut from the Moon. His gaze darts one way and the other.

Abruptly, he shifts into complete wolf form, catching both Zane and I off guard. He turns to Zane, blood in his eyes. Swiftly, Gracefully. Without time to react, Zane is pushed off balance as this creature pounces hard on him. I hear his gasp as the air is forced from his lungs on impact. Cringing, I instantly rise to the air once again, getting ready for fight instead of seeking safety. Zane struggles, trying to push the wolf off of him, yet unwillingly submitting to the other's natural superiority. Changing into cobra form under this pressure would insure death. A wolf's fangs could tear his fragile snake self apart in an instant. Taking a hold on the fur on his neck, Zane pushes the wolf off of him. Not by sheer force but because the creature was not expecting him to be susceptible to such a strenuous movement. His guard had been down. He realizes with irritation and strengthens his defenses. Zane is not a force to be reckoned with.

However, without enough time to recover from his former position down on his back, Zane is left exposed and vulnerable. The wolf seizes this opportunity with alarming rapidity. Flash of white fades to red. Hot blood splattered on cool marble. A straggling body lying limp on the stained red stone. Silver flare of energy and hazy eyes are upon me. Frightening, daring. I refuse to leave my skyward haven.

The wolf shifts back to a half form. A wicked smile spreads across his reddened lips. "I'll tear this man to pieces if you don't come down. Then again, I might do that when you're dead as well, anyway."

I freeze. Satisfied with my terror, he continues. "Flesh will be removed, ripped apart limb by limb. He has a pretty face; it will be a shame to destroy it."


	3. Brawl

Part III! This is exciting! These characters aren't my own… ect…

Despite my fear, I paint a broad grin on my lips. "Do you truly think that, even after you kill me, you will accomplish your goal, whatever that may be? In short, you will be hunted down, like prey, by the entire Avian and Serpiente army combined. No, you _are_ the prey. Now, though, I have the advantage of the air."

"True, true."

Knowing that _he_ truthfully has the upper hand, I refuse to back down this far into the game. "If you agree to fight solely in human form, I will as well."

He laughs maniacally. "Little hawk, I will crush you. You are shielded, yet unversed in war and fighting. What do you know of death? In an instant you will be regretting what you are saying at this very moment."

I smirk inwardly. Very good. His ignorance and arrogance will blind him from my true ability and leave him unprepared. Cautiously, I lower myself to the ground, once again. Scanning my memory of all the things Rei had taught me about fighting, I shut my eyes, but only for an instant before fluttering them open and meeting those grey ones of my opponent. With an apprehensive glance at Zane, lying on the floor, I blink back tears and rage starts to burn a deep hue in my eyes.

The wolf steps forward and I step back. Our eyes are in a deadlock, neither one of us willing to falter in the least bit. In an instant, I notice the slit of his pupil tremble, signifying his preparation for attack. I don't hesitate another second and turn for only a moment to reach for the hilt of a blade hanging on the wall.

This was a mistake. As I turn my back to him, he seizes this opportunity to pounce. No sooner has my hand grasped the handle of the gleaming rapier, I feel sharp nails digging into my shoulder, piercing cloth and flesh as I stagger to the ground, pinned to the marble and unable to move. I feel his grin at my helplessness and his silver eyes flashing with satisfaction. My palm sweats as it grips to the sword, it may be the last line I have to life. The icy touch of the handle compromises the heat of my hand. I feel my fingers run over the pattern engraved in the hilt, holding onto it dearly for its reassuring presence. I sense the wolf eying my right hand with vigilance.

I hear the rush of air, pushed from his hand moving, closing the gap. Without time to think, I impulsively twist the blade and I feel hear the song of metal piercing flesh and a spray of crimson spews from his wrist. The wolf yelps. Not in pain, but in surprise. He hesitates for only a few seconds, releasing his hold on me. Swiftly, I push him off and roll to my knees. His eyes flash irately in my direction as his hand clenches his wrist, blood seeping out with the heat of his fury.

He's dangerously close to Zane, therefore capable of rash actions, damaging, nonetheless. I don't let my gaze wander, in hopes not to suggest anything of that manner. So far, he senses nothing.

The wolf backs up only a couple paces. Bright eyes flare, daring me to be the first to attack. I invite the challenge with open arms. Before he realizes I've fully recovered, I fly to him and land a blow to his side. Again, the blade sings as it contacts the soft flesh. Penetrating, damaging. The gash is deep and blood spurts out like a faucet. At this blow, its visible the agony he's experiencing, and I recoil at my own aggression.

With this, he screams with anguish and hugs his waist. I am dangerously close to him. Before I have time to think, his hand shoots out with distressing speed and grasps my sword by the blade. The edges cut deep into his palm as he tightens his grip and it enters through his skin; red drips down the blade. Shocked, I am frozen, unable to move. A devious smile spreads across his blood reddened lips as he wrenches the weapon from my grasp and I jerk forward in the act, bringing me alarmingly close to him. So close, I hear his dog-like panting.

Solidified from fear and anticipation for what was to happen next, the wolf seizes the opportunity to wrap his fist around a lock of my hair and yanks me closer. My breath turns cold and ragged. I cry out in pain as he pulls me to him, with my back pressing against his chest with the blade of my own sword to my throat. He takes his other hand and it makes me want to cringe as he licks the blood streaming from his fingers. Slowly, painfully slowly. Drinking in the taste of near victory and my pain before he ends it once and for all. Next, he bends his head awkwardly, and purposely to make me squirm, licks the scarlet substance from my throat. I feel his wet tongue and his deceitful grin. I know he will finish me off when he's done.

Please post more reviews! It really makes it more fun to continue writing. Tell me what I should do or what I should change or to continue writing and updating. If no one's really reading this, then I don't think there's much of a point to continue writing so let me know you're out there! 


	4. Pain

The characters aren't mine… etc… YAY! Part IV!

Unwilling for defeat, I jab my elbow into his stomach in a desperate attempt to cause him the pain I am experiencing, as well as humiliation. I want him to suffer.

Reaching in my back pocket, I feel promising handle of my skillfully crafted knife, a gift from a merchant who presented it to me during the war. I don't have time to wait for his recovery.

I charge, clumsily. I raise my arm to strike. The wolf grabs my wrist and twists it. Remembering the technique Rei taught me, I strenuously fling the knife into my left hand. He's surprised by the act and I swing the blade under and plunge it as deep as I can into his arm, the one holding my former weapon. With a clatter, the sword drops to the earth with a clang drowned out only by his pained howls. He keels over in agony, desperately trying to hinder the rapidly leaking blood. Sporadic bursts of anguish jump from his throat as he struggles clumsily to rise from the ground.

I aim for his heart. Another hit is attempted but this time, he ducks and the blow misses its intended target as it slides across his face, leaving a streak of red.

The wolf curses under his breath as he gasps for air. "Damn it, you're going to die a slow and painful death for this."

"Looks like I'm winning." I retort with a slight smirk.

Before he fully recovers from his kneeling position, he shoots forward, slashing the sword and cutting open the soft flesh on my stomach. He loses his balance and falls in front of me.

An exasperated twinge of pain stings at my waist. My hands rush to cover the wound but I remind myself to finish the fight before trifling myself over my own hurt. Eying the wolf struggling to regain his position, I sink my knife into his back, directly behind his heart. Satisfaction, guilt. The two merge as I strike the fallen man. He collapses at my feet with a raspy gasp. Blood cascades down his scarred back and torn clothing. I stand there, enthralled by the violence I had just committed. Confusion and clash of emotions.

Reluctantly, I bend over the ragged body and turn him on his back. His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth and fangs clenched tight through the taste of iron. Red on his lips. His chest rising and falling at an uneven rate and alarmingly rapid speed. Excruciating pain is articulated in the creases of his expression. He's dying, slowly, painfully.

Should I feel pleased? I don't. I bend down beside him, planting an exhausted arm on his torn chest, just bellow his rapidly beating heart. Sliding the sword out of his loosened grip with my other hand, I stab it into his chest once again. His eyes and mouth shoot open, him spitting out blood, drowning in it. It soaks through his sliced shirt and his chest freezes in mid-breath. Both of us are now drenched in our own blood as well as each others'.

I stumble over to Zane. Just before I reach him, I give in to the hurt and strain and exhaustion as I crumple to the floor. I reach my hand forward and pull myself over to his body. I lie next to him, just to feel his dying warmth and I drape his limp arm around my shoulders and wrap my arms around him. I just want to rest here, a while. Just for a little.

How was this chapter? Any comments? Suggestions? Please R&R. If you don't like it, please tell me and if you did, please tell me as well.


	5. Wake

This is A. Atwater-Rhodes' stuff…. Etc….

I wake up. I feel so sore; I don't think I can move. My senses are besieged by stress and as I struggle to lift my head, and then my arms. My eyes open and squint at the light I have not experienced in such a long time.

I'm on a bed and my hands claw at the lushly embroidered fabric beneath me. With much effort I prop myself up but cringe at the pain on my stomach. Looking down I see a bandaged wound and remember the fight. Where did the wolf go? Oh yeah, he's dead. I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory and flop back down on the supportive bed. Then, terror washes over me. Zane!

I know this is a very, verrrry, VERRRRRRY, short chapter, but I have a dilemma, I don't know what to write next…. Should Zane die? (that would be very sad, I know T-T) Please tell me what you think!


	6. More

This is not my stuff…. Blah blah etc.--

I sit there in the room, on the bed, gathering my thoughts. I try to recollect the memories of what happened the earlier morning. I maintain my calm reserve and keep myself together.

A wolf… he somehow managed to break into the well-guarded Avian keep. Although our guard had been set down because of the recent peace between the Avian and Serpiente kingdoms, I know we are not foolish enough to assume everything is completely peaceful and let all forget about war. What was the purpose of that wolf? What was he hoping to accomplish by himself? Or were there others?

He could have been a straggler; he could have been a rebel who decided to come on his own terms. But even if this was so, it's terrifying to think about how he was able to slink past all the guards and gates.

I casually saunter over to the windowsill. The air is still and tepid, there seems to be no wind at all and it's all calm, a big contrast from the chaos that occurred earlier. Even though there is no wind, that doesn't mean I feel at peace. The wind is my comfort; it gives me power and makes me feel whole. The lack of breeze doesn't please me.

I watch as trees and grass sway; they rustle and stir… wait… but there isn't any wind. Why are the plants moving? Taking a closer look, I spot things moving the grass. I stagger back toward my bed. Gray fur, rapidly approaching the Keep. More wolves?

---Attention! Please R&R so I can know what to do. If no one really wants to read this anymore then I'll finish the story the next chapter. Thanks!


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